


remake me (break me down)

by deliciously_devient



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Conspiracy Theories, M/M, Sexual Slavery, consensual sexual slavery, everything else is gonna be filthy filthy porn, first chapter is world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 17:42:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11605635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciously_devient/pseuds/deliciously_devient
Summary: After every secret has been stripped away, Jack Morrison needs to feel human again.





	remake me (break me down)

It took ten years. 

Ten grueling, painful years undergoing experiments, committing atrocities and acting like the monsters they had been made into.

It took two years of working with Sombra before Gabriel felt confident in her loyalty -strictly to herself, which was good enough for his purposes- before he led her in the right direction, leaving small holes in the encryption just big enough for her to get through.

Finally, after ten fucking years, the truth was there, out in the open, glaring down at them all and giving light to the crimes that eight world leaders had planned and executed almost flawlessly.

The Omnic Crisis had happened because these eight world leaders planned, created and executed it. The rise, fall, and second rise of Overwatch. The Second Omnic Crisis. The assassination of Mondatta. Everything, everything, that had fucked up Gabriel’s life and torn away everything he had ever loved or cared for had been the fault of these eight world leaders.

Two of them lay dead at his feet. The other six, no doubt, would be killed or captured by the rioters. Gabriel thought that when this happened he would be free; he would feel somehow lighter, with the sins of the world on display and two of the souls that had caused him so much anguish settling in his gullet, but he only felt...hollow.

Akande, who had been with him as he killed the two world leaders -both of which had been directly responsible for the omnic crisis and the fall of Overwatch, respectively- was staring dully at the bodies. He had been quiet for a long while, for three days, since Gabriel had revealed to him exactly how little control he had over his own life.

Akande had been kidnapped as a young child, for short periods of time, repeatedly; Talon had been indoctrinating and feeding him his world view since he was ten years old, shaping him into one of its leaders before he even knew where he would end up. Gabriel could relate; it had taken a while to come to terms with the fact that someone had been implanting things into his mind for years, since SEP. Of course, he’d developed into a full person by then; Akande….well, he hadn’t had the chance to become his own person before Talon had sunk it’s claws in.

If there was anything he knew about the man, however, it was that he would not stay in this funk forever; whether it was his determination or his vengeance, he was a man of action. He would be blazing trails, whether of change or destruction, and he would be confident in himself and his actions again in no time.

Gabriel felt kind of hollow.

“So this is it. What we have become monsters to complete,” Amelie said softly, landing from her perch beside Reaper. Her purple skin appears waxy, unhealthy. It had been five weeks since her last injection, and he knew that without more of the chemicals she would slowly degrade, her body far too modified to continue without Talon’s interference.

They both knew what she needed, and how to make it; the slight trembling in her hands was enough to alert Gabriel to the fact that she should get an injection soon. He wondered if she was going to let herself degrade.

He would, if it were an option.

“How long have you known about this, all of this?” Akande demanded, and there was anger burning in his brown eyes; he was looking for someone to blame.

“Ten years,” Gabriel said slowly, reaching up to take his mask off. Akande’s face betrayed his shock. In the years he had known him, Gabriel had never once removed his mask. His skin was waxy pale, white like a corpse and void of the lovely caramel color it had previously held. There was currently a small hole in his cheek, sluggishly healing, a stray bullet that had pierced his mask. His eyes glowed red, the white of his sclera patchy and yellowed in places.

“We discovered it together, on a mission that took us to a Talon base on accident. What we found was….disturbing, but it was just the tip of the iceberg. We thought it was just Talon, behind everything, pulling strings and getting people to go up against each other, but it went so much deeper than that.”

“We didn’t know who we could trust, the corruption ran so deep,” Amelie said softly. “So we trusted no one but the three of us who discovered the files. We knew there were more strings attaching this one plot, so we followed it. We joined the enemy, faked deaths and allowed ourselves to be shaped, in order to follow every last string to its source.”

“And now you have cut the strings,” Akande said softly, his gaze going distant. “You have set the truth into the world, and the world is in anarchy.”

“You always say conflict makes us stronger,” Gabriel replied glibly, and a pained look crossed Akande’s face.

“I have said this, yes. But who was truly speaking the words?” he replied, an edge of bitterness leaking into his voice. His eyes, often so fierce, were dulled, looking inward, and Gabriel felt a pang of sadness. Of all the people in Talon, Akande was the one he thought was least corrupted; while his ideals were not….ideal, he would never accept a mission that killed unnecessarily, or harmed children or vital resources. It was why he had worked so hard to keep the man alive when the shadows behind Talon wanted to kill him.

“Finding out who you are and what you believe in is up to you, Akande,” Gabriel rasped, slowly taking off his gloves. The wounds on his hands never really healed; they were always raw and burned, in pain, muscle and bone exposed. He stared at the bloodless muscle on his right, the remnants of the explosion in Zurich, and wondered if he could ever be the same, ever not be in pain. “For what it’s worth, I’ve always thought you were a good man. Maybe you could turn the remainder of Talon around for the better.”

“You speak as if you mean to leave it to me,” the man said, stalking closer to Gabriel, getting in his personal space. Gabriel arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by the intimidation tactic.

“We have served our purpose,” Widowmaker -no, Amelie now; they could shed their battle names, finally- asserted, her eyes narrowed as she lifted her rifle slightly. “We have spent ten years losing ourselves to Talon, pulling up secret after secret like layers of fat off a starved animal. We have earned our retirement.”

Akande looked down at her, considering, before stepping back. Gabriel was unsure whether or not he had looked into the files concerning Amelie, and what Talon had done to her; what they had taken from her, and what they had given her. Gabriel had only been able to stomach a third of the file, enough to figure out the correct mix of chemicals that would keep her from dying once they fully destroyed Talon. From the look on Akande’s face, he had at least a small idea of the suffering Amelie had gone through.

“And where will you go, then? Retire to some little farm where the world will forget you?”

“The world forgot me a long time ago, Akande. The funeral was televised.”

That managed to get a laugh out of the larger man, and he clapped a surprisingly gentle hand along Gabriel’s shoulder.

“You have both been good friends to me, even if you were duplicitous spies the entire time,” he said. “If you are ever in need of aid, you may always call upon me.”

“Duly noted,” Gabriel said, and focused for a moment, letting his body flow, turning into mist and letting the wind take him away.

Traveling like this was always difficult; it was easy to lost track of time, to get lost in the feeling of his cells traveling over things he might not be able to travel over in his flesh body. The sensory experience was sensual, and he particularly liked gliding over water, or fire. Both sensations were borderline sexual as each of his individual cells was caressed, making him shudder. Well. As much as an amorphous cloud of mist could shudder.

He drifted for awhile, with no real destination in mind. He knew what he was, to an extent; knew he couldn’t die, knew there was no real sleep for him. There was a certain peace in this form, with time slipping through him and around him as he drifted over rocks and trees and mountains, drawn by the wind.  
But it couldn’t last forever, of course; eventually he had to reform, cells drawn together more harshly. He reformed his body before he was forced to, cells snapping together roughly after so long apart. 

He looked around, trying to get his bearings. He was in a city, and luckily it was night time. He pulled his hood up and shoved his hands into his pocket, tongue pushing against the not-quite-healed hole in his mouth. His stomach gave a rough grumble, and he wondered if there would be anything open at this hour, or any unsuspecting ne’erdowells he could nibble on.

He started walking, shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep in the pockets of the hoodie he had conjured, instead of his usual leather. He didn’t think he would go back to being Reaper; the caricature had served it’s purpose. He could retire it, now.

Unsurprisingly, he found he had wandered over a thousand miles, to Gibraltar, the Watchpoint gleaming dully. His phone, which he glanced at, told him that nearly two months had passed. It was nearly three am; he wondered if the members of the reformed Overwatch were even present at the Watchpoint, or if they were off in the world, trying to keep the peace.

He made his way to base, wondering what the hell he was doing. His hands burned, the ever-fresh wounds bleeding slowly as his stomach rumbled. His joints ached. Old scars twitched with phantom pain, and his breath came in short, shallow gasps.

He slipped into the Watchpoint easily, quiet as a shadow, walking through the halls and listening intently. He found the light in the medical ward still on, and stepped in, seeing Angela fiddling with some equipment. 

His heart clenched painfully as he saw Jesse hooked up to several machines, still with sleep and enveloped in the soft glow of the Caduceus. He looked mostly healed, and his sleep appeared to be natural, but he was hooked up to a breathing machine, so his injuries must have been severe.

“What happened?” he asked, and Angela jumped, spinning, reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there. He watched her eyes widen, taking in his face, still recognizable despite its paleness and still missing chunk of flesh.

“Gabriel?” she whispered, and he could see her eyes watering, making his heart twist further. He had always cared for Angela; never once had he thought her capable of duplicity, or being anything other than a victim. Like Gabriel.

“It’s been awhile,” he said in lieu of confirming her question. “How’s the brat?”

Angela lunged forward, wrapping him in a hug, which he’d been anticipating, but he couldn’t fully hide his wince, the contact sending a fresh wave of agony through his skin.  
“Oh! I’m so sorry! Are you injured?” she fussed as she pulled back, fingers fluttering over him as she got a better look at his skin, which, with so long without eating, was probably even more necrotic than usual.

“No,” he assured her. “Why aren’t you raising the alarm?”

“Oh. Well. I...I’ve read the files. All of them. Well, all the ones pertaining to Overwatch and its members….we, we all have,” she said, and Gabriel couldn’t mask the shock on his face. “It was...it was the least you deserved.”

Gabriel hadn’t been expecting that; if anything, he had been expecting a bullet to the face if nothing else from his former comrades.

Something warm stirred in his chest.

“Jesse?” he asked, old worried getting the better of him, He also wanted to move on from the subject of his not betrayal.

“Oh! Well he’s in the clear now, but he had perforated lungs when they brought him in. They ran into someone a little too fond of shotguns on a mission two days ago. He should be able to be put on bedrest in his rooms tomorrow.”

Gabriel nodded, looking down at the man he had once thought of as a son. Of everyone he had researched, every person he had dug into for strings, he couldn’t begin to explain how grateful he was that Jesse was exactly who he said he was; an angry kid from Santa Fe, with good aim and a sense of loyalty that rivaled Gabe’s own.

“Good. Make sure someone watches him; you know he’ll be out trying to smoke the minute you take your eyes off him,” he growled, an edge of fondness in his voice.

“Gabriel.”

Gabriel tensed, that rough voice making every inch of him go stiff as memories flooded him. He didn’t want to turn around, wanted to fade into mist and never, ever think about this particular ghost ever again. But he knew he’d have to deal with it sooner or later.

“Jack,” he said, turning. He had hoped that Morrison would show his face for this particular confrontation, but no, there was that stupid visor.

There was silence for a long moment; Jack seemed just as tense as Gabriel was, and for a moment, he thought this was it; they were just going to stare at each other.

“Can we...can we talk?” Jack said eventually, and Gabriel nodded sharply, stalking past Jack, leaving the light and relative safety of the medical bay. Jack’s heavy steps followed him out, and followed him closely.

He knew they wouldn’t want anyone around for this conversation; there was likely to be a lot of shouting. Maybe a fist fight. It really depended on how much of an ass Morrison decided to be.

He stopped in the loading bay; the stars gleamed above them, muted slightly by the city light, and he turned his face toward them. Jack stopped beside him, a few feet away, and for a moment, Gabriel mourned the distance. He remembered a time when there would be no distance behind them, when Jack would lean into his space, breath warm on his neck, dumb, sappy words whispered into his ear.

But no. Talon had decided that was something they couldn’t have. It would make it easier to topple Overwatch if the two leaders hated each other.

The silence stretched on between them, and every minute made the hollowness in Gabriel’s chest grow tighter, threatening to shatter him into pieces.

“I...don’t know what to say,” Jack said quietly, after about twenty minutes of silence.

“You’re the one who wanted to talk,” Gabriel snapped, shoulders drawing closer, defensive.

“I know!” Jack snapped back, anger tilting his voice, and Gabriel drew in closer, bracing for an argument, for more venomous words spewed back and forth.

To his surprise, Jack sagged, exhaling harshly through his mouth. “I know,” he repeated, softer. His gloved fingers reached up, and there was a quiet hiss of air as he removed his mask and visor. His eyes under the visor were milky white, scars stretched around his face, but it was the same man Gabriel had fallen in love with so long ago.

The eyes were a dead giveaway, and Gabriel finally understood why Jack was never without it.

“Where the fuck do I even start?” Jack said, laughing without humor. “Where they brainwashed you? Where they brainwashed me? Where you had to go to ground for ten fucking years just to find out who was behind it all? Where they took you away from me because ‘inciting the fall of Overwatch would be more efficient with more prior conflict’?” 

Jack ran his hands through his hair, grasping at fine strands and making a distressed sound. “Everything I ever thought I stood for was a lie. Everything. The only thing that was ever real was you, and they took you from me!”

Gabriel was silent, watching, the hollowness growing ever tighter around his chest.  
“I loved you, and they took that from me. They got in my head and scooped out every bit of love I had for you and replaced it with hate and resentment, and I had no idea. They killed you! They fucking killed you and the only reason you survived is because you knew they were going to do it! You’ve been the better man every step of the way and I have no fucking clue why you haven’t killed me yet. You should. If anyone deserves to, it’s you.”

“Do you think that’s why I’m here?” Gabriel asked softly.

“Maybe. Fuck, Gabe, I’d put a shotgun in my mouth if I were you. I failed you. Over and over again, I let you down. If I’d been better….”

“Do you think I discovered this on purpose?” Gabriel demanded, facing Jack fully for the first time. “I came across the first clues on accident. On a mission completely unrelated to Talon, before Talon was even fully formed. If I hadn’t been in the exact right time, and the exact place, I would never have found out.”

Jack’s face was anguished, and he fell to his knees in front of Gabriel, tilting his face upwards as if the other man could offer him salvation.

“You couldn’t even trust me to tell me,” Jack said, pained. “What worth do I have, if you couldn’t trust me to have your back with something like this? What good am I?”

Gabriel knelt in front of Jack, slowly bringing his ruined hand up and cupping Jack’s face. So many emotions were swirling in his chest, threatening to spill over, to make him shatter. He leaned their foreheads together, closing his eyes. Jack shuddered, a harsh, broken sob breaking free of his throat.

“Shh,” Gabriel murmured. “It’s okay now. We’re gonna be okay.”

For the first time in his life, those words didn’t feel like a lie.


End file.
